


Going Sideways (but still getting ahead)

by Gilradir



Series: Pushing the Limits [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Costia/Lexa, F/F, Minor Clarke Griffin/Lexa, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Set in Britain/Europe, most of the characters are British, motorsport au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilradir/pseuds/Gilradir
Summary: The 20-year-old Clarke Griffin is a rising star in Formula 2 and one of very few female drivers in all of motorsport.This weekend, she is driving on her favourite race track and her long-time friend Lexa is finally there to witness it in person.Or: The Motorsport AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, the story is set in Europe and most of the characters are British. American motorsports are a completely different world I don't know much about, so Britain it is.
> 
> For those who aren't very familiar with motorsport or just this track specifically, here's a few things to help you visualize the whole thing:  
> [Track map of Spa](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/54/Spa-Francorchamps_of_Belgium.svg)  
> [Onboard lap in a similar car](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpJLf7ZdyXg)  
> [Picture of just how steep the Eau Rouge complex is](http://i.imgur.com/gk9WAu8.jpg)

Deep in the forests of Belgium lies a beautiful strip of tarmac often called the roller-coaster of the Ardennes. Spa Francorchamps. Many people say it's the best race track in the world. I tend to agree. It's Thursday afternoon, less than 48 hours to the first race of the weekend. I'm currently doing a track walk with my race engineer Raven. Just talking through the lap, looking for brake markers, inspecting the curbs and checking if anything changed since the last time I was here. Luckily, we've got bikes, otherwise it would take all day. We've just gone down the straight to Eau Rouge and I see the track through Raidillon towering over 40 meters above me. I always forget how steep it is.

“In the F2 car you should be flat-out doing about 250k through here,” Raven tells me.

I grin. “Exhilarating isn't it?” 

“Damn Griff, you're crazy!” 

You have to be a bit crazy to do this, to be perfectly honest. I don't think anybody completely sane would drive far too expensive cars without any practical uses at insane speeds in close proximity to one another. It's a frivolous sport, but it's my sport.

We actually have to get off our bikes and push them up the hill. I glance at Raven to see if she's struggling. But she catches me and throws me a glare, as if to say _“Don't even think about helping me. I may need to wear a brace on my leg, but I'm not completely helpless!”_ I shoot her a rueful smile and continue on. When we reach the crest, I scrub my foot over the curb. They may not be the raised ripple strips used in other corners, but the painted tarmac is bloody slippery. I'll have to be careful not to unsettle the car, because pretty much any mistake here is going to end in a crash into the barriers a few dozen meters down the track.

Raven looks at me with concern. “I hope Murphy doesn't try anything stupid through here. How many front wings has he cost you throughout your careers? 

I chuckle. “You'd have to ask Lexa for that. She could probably even give you a pretty good estimate of how many points I lost because of him.”

That gets a laugh out her. “Well Clarke, if you do come across him here, just back out of it. I don't want to have to explain to the boss why he has to buy a new car for you.”

I can't help but laugh along with her. It's moments like these that make me glad I asked Raven to be my race engineer. Even though I do sometimes feel bad about it, because she's an absolute genius and could be well on her way to a Master’s degree in mechanical engineering by now.

 

* * *

 

I just finished the practice session and am getting out of the car. My feet have barely touched the ground, when Raven jumps in front of me, her headset around her neck, and gives me a high five.

“Awesome session Clarke! We were three and a half tenths quicker than anybody else on long runs and your consistency was top notch as always. Tyre wear is looking pretty good, too.”

“That's what I do,” I answer while taking of my gloves, helmet and balaclava, “destroy everyone on race pace.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Raven grumbles good-naturedly. “Record holder for largest number of fastest race laps in F3 and so forth.”

I run my fingers through my sweaty hair. “Still, it's always nice to get confirmation.”

We're walking to the back of the box when Raven turns to me with a smirk. “So, are you excited to see Lexa again? Your dad should be arriving with her any minute now.”

I give her a shy smile. “Do you even have to ask?”

“And you finally get to meet the girlfriend, too!” teases Raven.

I have to fight to keep the smile on my face as we leave the garage.

“Hey kiddo! Look who I've brought!”

I whirl around towards my dad's voice and there she is. It's been years since she broke my heart, since I forgave her, since she came back into my life, months since I last saw her and still butterflies erupt in my stomach. I guess your first love never completely fades away. Her light brown hair falls in soft waves over her shoulder and her deep green eyes seem to sparkle even though they are in the shadow of a baseball cap with my number on it. She makes even her relaxed outfit of a tank top and shorts seem effortlessly gorgeous. She gets more beautiful every time I see her. I almost don't notice my dad and little brother, and another girl besides Lexa who must be Costia.

“Lex!” I call as I run towards her and fling myself into her arms. She staggers back a bit before catching me in her embrace. “It's been too long,” I murmur into her ear.

“I've missed you, Clarke.” A shiver runs down my spine as she says my name, despite the warm summer air. She pulls back a bit. “You look good.”

I laugh happily as I get a little lost in her eyes. “Don't lie to me. Nobody looks good in racing overalls. And I'm sweaty as hell.”

She gives me a soft smile. “If anyone can make them look good, it's you.”

“Charmer. You on the other hand don't look at all like you've been travelling across Europe for half a day for me.” I smile awkwardly. She was always better at giving compliments than me, but I hope she understood what I meant nevertheless.

“Don't I get a hug, too?” I am pulled from my own little world with Lexa as my dad pouts at me.

I go over to him and hug him. “Don't be so impatient Dad, you just saw me two days ago.”

“Hey Aden,” I say as I ruffle my little brother’s hair, which he immediately pats back down. Soon he'll be taller than me.

“Hey sis.”

Raven finally catches up to me and greets my family. I turn to the girl besides Lexa and she smiles at me. “Hello Clarke. It's good to finally meet you.”

I’ve seen Costia in pictures with Lexa of course but this is the first time I’m meeting her in person. Even in those pictures she always looked extraordinary. Now the way her brown curls frame her face and her lovely smile make me self-conscious about my sweaty mane of hair and generally dishevelled appearance.

“I'm glad you could come, Costia. Anyone who captures Lexa's attention must be quite special.”

“Well, Lexa can't stop talking about you, so you must be quite special, too.” Both Lexa and I blush at the gentle teasing. “But I still don't understand what's so great about a bunch of cars trundling in a circle for an hour.”

“Are you kidding me?” I exclaim. “Going down towards Eau Rouge with a V8 screaming behind you, feeling yourself get pressed into the seat through the compression and then hanging in the seatbelts over the crest a moment later, all the while daring yourself not to lift off? Throwing the car into Blanchimont, giving the tiniest blend of the throttle and just trusting that it sticks? It's the best feeling in the world!” I am almost giddy with excitement now that Lexa is here.

Costia just laughs. “I couldn't even understand half what you were saying just now. It's like you're speaking a different language.”

Lexa however is getting carried along with my excitement. “I've been looking at the timings on the way here. Your pace seems quite good around here. So, it'll probably be a good race, now that I can finally see one in person.”

“You think she was quick now?” Raven interjects. “We didn't even do any low fuel runs!”

I give Lexa a cocky grin. “I have to give my biggest fan a good show, don't I?”

“Hey!” both my dad and Raven protest.

“Raven, you don't count any more, since you're actually involved in my success now. And I'm sorry Dad, but you haven't written multiple meticulously researched articles defending my honour like Lexa has.” I wink at a blushing Lexa, while Costia just sighs exasperatedly.

 

* * *

 

“Everything looks good on my end; you did a great job on warming the tyres. So, get your head in the game and you're probably gonna be P1 before the end of the first lap.” I hear Raven in my ears as I complete the last couple of corners of the formation lap.

I let out a small chuckle. “I thought the drivers were supposed to be the cocky ones?”

“Just trying to encourage you. You want to impress your number one fan, don't you?”

Warmth shoots through my belly at the thought of Lexa, but I can't afford to think about her now. I roll down the pit straight, taking my spot in P2. Only Markelov is in front of me, with Murphy directly behind me sitting in P4. Russell separates the two of us in P3. The rest of the grid forms up and my focus sharpens to a razor’s edge. I rev my engine as the first lights switch on, concentrating on what seems to be a single LED of a single light, waiting for it to go out.

As soon as it does, I let out the clutch and shoot off the line. I have a good initial getaway but get a little bit of wheel spin as I switch to second gear. Markelov covers off the inside line and I tuck in behind him. Russell gets his front wing along my outside as we're breaking for the hairpin of La Source, but I let myself get carried out wide after hitting the apex and squeeze him to the edge of the track, which forces him to back out.

I begin closing up to Markelov again but get a little wiggle of oversteer over the crest of Raidillon in his dirty air and lose a bit of momentum. The slipstream helps me recover the lost ground up the Kemmel straight and I show my nose to intimidate him. I'm not close enough for a dive however and tuck back in behind him for the braking zone. As I turn in for the right of Les Combes, I glance in my mirror and see that Murphy already got past Russell and is now directly behind me.

Markelov runs wide through Malmedy and I have to lift off to avoid running into the back of his car. That allows Murphy to go up my inside. Markelov defends to the inside on the run down to Bruxelles and I manage to draw alongside him. We run side by side through the long, sweeping right hander, but he forces me onto the curb on the exit, which unsettles my car. I have to get off the throttle completely and Murphy swoops round my outside through no-name.

“Okay, that didn't go the way we wanted,” Ravens voice comes over the radio. “But we know you're faster than them, so keep your head down and you'll be on the back of them in no time.”

I only answer with a short “Copy” and get to work.

A few corners later we fly through Blanchimont for the first time and I watch as Murphy makes a move on Markelov into the Bus-stop chicane. He makes it stick and is up into the lead.

Over the course of the next lap I get closer and closer to Markelov. I get a great exit off Stavelot and manage to stay directly behind him through Blanchimont. He defends to the inside on the run up to the Bus-stop. I get slightly ahead of him in the braking zone but run wide in the first part of the chicane and have to go over the curb on the inside, which bounces my car a bit. I manage to hold on and stay ahead. Now it's my turn to defend into the hairpin, but Markelov can't get close enough to be of any real danger.

“Great job on that overtake, that's what I like to see,” praises Raven over the radio. “Another lap like that and you'll be right behind Murphy!”

Raven's prediction turns out to be true and after another good exit off Stavelot I get ever closer to Murphy's car.

 

* * *

 

_From the commentators’ booth:_

“After another blistering lap from Clarke Griffin she has already closed up to Murphy and will be all over the back of him in no time. Whenever these two go head to head it's sure to get exciting!”

“Yeah, they've been battling it out for years in the junior categories and there's definitely no love lost between them.”

“They go flying through Blanchimont now and Griffin keeps gaining. Will she make another move into the chicane? She goes to the inside -”

“She's not close enough; she's just trying to scare Murphy into a mistake. We see this a lot from her.”

“You're right of course. They scream down the pit straight, past our commentary box. Surely Griffin will make an attack now. Murphy sits in the middle of the track, waiting for her to make a move. She moves to the outside and he covers her off, but she twitches back to his inside! Tiny bit of a lock-up from her going into turn 1, but she hits the apex and gets ahead!”

“Stunning move there from Griffin!”

“But it's not over yet. Murphy got the better exit and gets slightly alongside Griffin. She squeezes him to the wall of the old pits, but Murphy's not lifting off. We saw a similar battle between Murphy and Russel on lap one. Murphy was much further alongside then however, so he has to back out this time for sure.”

“I don't think he will. I think he's going for it!”

 

* * *

 

I clench my teeth as I turn into Eau Rouge. This definitely isn't a place where I want to be side by side with anyone, let alone Murphy. I get slightly ahead through the left-hander, but he's still on my inside for the next right, so I can't get to the apex. I have to lift off because of my compromised line. I still run wide and put two wheels on the painted curbs. Murphy runs wide too and taps my inside rear tyre. I immediately lose the back end.

The last thing that shoots though my head before the impact is, _“Fuck, this is gonna hurt.”_

 

* * *

 

I slowly come back to consciousness. The first thing I notice is the hand holding onto my own. I groan softly as I become aware of more and more aches. My whole body seems to hurt, but the hand squeezing my own makes it a lot more bearable than I ever would have thought. I open my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed, Lexa sitting beside me and staring at me through bloodshot eyes. 

“Hey. How long was I out?” I mutter with a dry throat. Lexa hands me a glass of water, which I gladly accept, although I'm loath to let her hand go.

“About two hours. How—”

I immediately interrupt her. “So, the race is over then? Who won?”

Lexa shakes her head. “Of course, that would be the first thing you ask. Murphy won. He didn't even get a penalty. The collision was deemed a racing incident.”

Before I can make a retort, she takes the glass and gently envelops my hand back in hers, which completely derails my thoughts. “I can't even care about that right now. I'm sure I'll be pissed off about it later, but for now I'm just glad you're alright. How are you feeling?”

I take stock of the various aches throughout my body. “About as well as you can expect after a crash like that, so I've been better.”

Lexa smiles fondly at my attempt at humour. “That doesn't surprise me. You've got a concussion, bruises all over the left side of your body and you've fractured your right radius.”

At her mention I look to my right side for the first time since I woke up and see my forearm encased in a cast. “I guess that means no racing for me in the next couple of weeks then.” I turn back to my friend and we just look into each other’s eyes for a moment, before she takes a shuddering breath. She looks as if she is about to cry.

“I saw the two of you side by side, disappearing down the straight and I was holding my breath. Then you reappeared, going sideways and smashing into the barrier. I was so scared, I couldn't even breathe. I think I almost fainted.”

A couple of tears slide down her cheek and I want nothing more than to reassure her. “Lexa, I'm all right, you said so yourself. I'll be out of here by tomorrow at the latest and the only thing that'll stop me from going back out on track is the broken arm. These cars are designed to protect the driver in impacts like these.”

She takes a deep breath and calms down a bit. “I know, I don't understand why this affects me so much myself. Raven just looked at your car and said that it might look bad, but that she could see that the crash structure did its job and even your Dad calmed down after hearing the diagnosis. And I was just sitting next to you and couldn't stop crying and the others gave me space, so I could calm down, too and that's why I'm alone with you—” I've never seen Lexa ramble before. It's quite cute, but it also breaks my heart to see her so distraught, so I squeeze her hand and smile at her. She takes another deep breath and continues on. “Just Costia was also pretty scared, but far less than me. I guess it's because she isn't the one that's in—” She stops herself and I hold my breath. Lexa lowers her eyes. “—that cares about you.”

The air between us is charged with things Lexa almost said and that I don't dare to tell her. I struggle for something to say to defuse the tension. “Well, at least your first race in person wasn't boring.”

Lexa groans and buries her head in my elbow, though I can tell that she's smiling. “That was terrible,” she mumbles. “I am never going to one of your races again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Clarke is driving in Formula 2 at Spa. Her ex-girlfriend turned best friend Lexa, for whom she still has feelings, is finally there for one of her races and watching it live. After a massive crash with Clarke's long time rival Murphy she wakes in the hospital. There she is faced with an emotional Lexa, who almost seems to admit that she also still has feelings for Clarke.

After a few more moments of enjoying each other’s presence, Lexa lets go of my hand and gets up. “I should let the others know you're awake. They'll want to see you, too."

“Although they probably won't be as relieved as you,” I tease her as she leaves the room.

Shortly afterwards the door opens to the smiling faces of Aden, Raven and my dad, and they immediately crowd around my bed. Lexa and Costia trail after them, but stay by the door of the small hospital room. My father lays a comforting hand on my shoulder and is the first to speak. “I'm glad you're alright, my little comet.”

I groan at the nickname. “Do you have to call me that, Dad?”

“But it fits you so well!” snickers Aden.

Of course Raven joins in. “You shouldn't complain so much. There are far worse astronomical terms Jake could have chosen. Gas giant for example!”

“I was just in a massive accident and was even injured and you're already ganging up on me?”

Aden ruffles my hair. “Aww, you know that's just how we show our love.”

While he is right and they made me feel instantly better, I can’t let them know that as it would just inflate their egos. I swat his hand away and decide to change the topic. “Costia, I hope the crash didn't scare you away from motorsport for good?”

“It was quite frightening, especially since you didn't get out on your own,” Costia admits. “But I understand the fascination a bit better now. When there's someone you know racing and all the people are really into it, it's easy to get carried along in the excitement. Seeing you overtake that Murphy guy right in front of me was pretty amazing, even as someone who doesn't know much about this stuff.”

“That's what I've been trying to tell you the whole time!” Lexa exclaims. “We watched the Women's World Cup together, even though we don't care much about football otherwise. It didn't matter, because we wanted to see our countries do well. It's the same with every other sport. When there's some kind of story you can care about, you don't need to know all that much about the rules and all the other things going on in the background. That comes by itself after following it for a while.” It’s obvious that this isn’t the first time she gave this speech and I can’t quite suppress a smile at how passionate she is about this.

“As long as I have Lexa around, I can't completely escape racing anyway,” Costia smirks while sliding an arm around her waist. I get a queasy feeling in my stomach from watching their easy interaction.

Lexa looks away slightly awkwardly, but I ignore it. “Then we can boo Murphy together at tomorrow’s race.”

Aden grins impishly. “We could even make a huge banner to distract him while he makes his way through the field!”

Costia looks a bit confused by that. “Why would he have to make his way through the field?”

Raven explains it to her before I have the chance to speak. “The grid positions on Sunday are decided by the finishing positions of Saturday, but the top eight are reversed. So Murphy will have to start from P8 tomorrow. That, combined with the second race being shorter by a third, makes for an exciting race with lots of overtakes. It does get in the way of scoring consistent points though. At least we're all in the same boat there.”

“I quite like it actually,” I voice my opinion. “I'd much rather be fighting for position all the time than leading for 40 minutes. That gets really boring.”

“Then you start to drive like you're in qualifying again,” Raven grumbles, “and I have to scold you for pushing the car without any need. Again.”

I smile coyly at her. “I just want to get the points for the fastest race lap.”

“Maybe I'd believe you, if you didn't already have it by a good margin half of the time,” Raven counters. I’m not going to admit that I just do it for fun and because it annoys her.

All this talk about racing made me even more aware of my situation and I can’t suppress a frown. “I hate to bring the mood down, but I think Murphy just fucked my championship. I’m going to miss at least the next race weekend, maybe even two!” I glare at my arm. “Why did it have to be the arm? Couldn't I have broken a couple of ribs instead? Then maybe I even could have raced tomorrow.”

Costia stares at me and is apparently completely shocked. “You would have gotten in the car with broken ribs?”

“If the mechanics would have gotten the car back together by then, sure,” I shrug. “I could have just retired in case the pain got too bad.”

Costia shakes her head in disbelief. “You aren't the least bit afraid to get back on the track?”

“You really can't let fear get into the car with you,” I explain. “As soon as that happens you won't be 100% on it any more and you might as well not race at all.”

“The last time she had a heavy accident, she went off at over 200kph and her car flipped over in the gravel trap,” my dad mentions. “It seemed to burrow itself into the ground, but tipped over slightly when it came to a stop. Clarke here crawled out of it, walked to the closest marshals and gave a thumbs up for the cameras.” He laughs. “Since the car wasn't damaged too badly she was racing the next day.”

Costia shakes her head. “I take everything back about understanding racing a bit better now. You're all crazy.”

“Anyway, the crash is making some waves in the media,” Raven mentions. “A couple of outlets have requested your comments on it.”

I gather my thoughts for a moment. There are a couple of people in the press that are still stuck in the fifties and seem to have made it their mission to ruin my career. They are always trying to put everything I say or do in the worst possible light. If I’m being cautious on track, I get criticized for lacking the ambition and aggression necessary to make it in this sport. If I show that aggression in my driving or get a bit forceful in interviews, they write that I’m clearly being too emotional. On the other hand it wouldn’t look good to potential sponsors or even Formula 1 teams if I refused to comment. These idiots would just write whatever they wanted anyway.

I might as well talk to them and get at least some of my points across. “Okay, tell them I'll sit down with them tomorrow for a couple of minutes. Let’s just hope I don’t immediately get taken out of context again.”

 

* * *

 

It's pretty early in the morning when I get to the room Raven and my dad arranged for the interview. We worked out a statement together that I’m pretty confident in. There’s no accounting for the questions I will get asked however, so I’m still a bit nervous. I struggle to open the door with a coffee in one hand and the other one in a cast, but I manage. The handful of journalists are already waiting for me and talking amongst themselves. I'm pleasantly surprised that I won't be the only woman in the room. It isn't quite as bad on the media side as it is with the technical staff or the drivers, but it still happens way too often. I'm glad that I'll have at least one person who will probably be more sympathetic towards me.

“Good morning. I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long.”

There are murmurs that it is all right as I sit down. I begin talking before any of them get the chance to bombard me with questions. “There are a couple of things I'd like to say first, after that I'll happily answer your questions. Firstly, I am alright. I don't think the extent of my injuries has been made public yet, so I’ll brief you on that. I have a minor concussion, a couple of bruises and as you can obviously see, a fractured radius. The broken arm is pretty annoying, since I'll miss at least one race weekend. I hope I'm ready for Russia next month, but even that isn't a sure thing. Any chance I had of getting the championship is pretty much shot, barring any miracles.

“But it's also pretty amazing that even my comparatively light injuries can be considered unlucky today, when this crash would have been life-threatening thirty years ago. Sometimes I think all this progress in safety has also made us drivers more reckless. I know that it's a junior category and everyone expects us to be hotheads, but you have to respect the inherent danger in racing and you have to especially respect the other drivers on the track. I used to have nothing but respect for Murphy, both on and off the track. It's incredible that he made it here at all, considering where he came from. I think he said in the past that he faced harder obstacles than me, but that nobody wanted to acknowledge it and I can't really disagree with that.

“It’s almost impossible to miss that I am a woman, while class is mostly invisible. Especially since you hardly see us out of our racing overalls or team clothing. I was lucky enough to have parents that could support me financially and had contacts that helped me get sponsors, as have almost all other drivers in F2 and most other racing series. Murphy however pretty much came from nothing. I don't think it's my place to tell you the whole story and you’re probably already aware of what he made public. He definitely is one of the very few people that can say they made it here completely by themselves, through sheer determination and spite. It's an amazing achievement, which I still have great respect for.

“But in the last few years he's gotten far more aggressive on track and I feel like it's mostly with me. If you look through both our incidents you'll probably find most of them are with each other. I know someone compiled rather extensive lists with all my incidents and failures of the last years and Murphy's name appears pretty often in there. And I know I'm biased here, but I think most of them were not my fault. So I've lost a lot of the respect I had for him on track, since he apparently no longer respects me. I had three major accidents in my career. Two of them involved Murphy and the other one was in a series he doesn't even drive in.

“At the end of the day I think his move yesterday was reckless and unnecessary. He could have backed out and tried to overtake me on the straight or into the next corner. He would have lost less time and I would still be in the championship.” By now I've finished my coffee, which I have been sipping throughout my improvised speech. “That was pretty much all I wanted to say, so you can ask your questions.”

A British reporter I vaguely remember is the first to speak. “Well Clarke, this was quite comprehensive, but there were a few thing I wanted to clarify. You mentioned that it isn't your place to tell the story about Murphy's past. Does that mean you know it?” He seems to think I still remember him.

“Yes. At least most of it.”

“Could you tell us how you found out about it?” Another reporter asks as a follow-up, this one with a German accent.

“Murphy and I were actually quite good friends during our karting days. There wasn't all that much pressure to perform from the media and sponsors, and we were both outsiders, so we just flocked to each other. But with the greater media attention to formula racing we were eventually pitted against each other as rivals.”

The British journalist attempts to dig deeper. “Are you saying the media destroyed your friendship?”

“Look, I get that the story practically wrote itself. ‘The poor boy and the girl against the rest. But who will come out on top?’ It’s just too good of a narrative to pass up and it probably got a lot of people to watch our races, which is a positive for everyone. In the end we were competing for everything from the championships themselves to sponsors and most friendships won’t survive that for long, but all the media attention definitely played a part, too. Other than that, I don't want to discuss my personal relationships.”

My last sentence was probably a bit forceful, as there is now a slightly awkward silence, which the female reporter uses to speak. “Hi Clarke, I'm Rebecca Meneur from Toile F1,” she says in a French accent. At least she has good enough manners to introduce herself first. “Do you think you being a woman changes the way the other drivers behave around you?”

“I assume you mean on the track?” I ask her. She nods. “I think that's undeniable at this point. The list I mentioned earlier was created because a very dedicated fan of mine noticed a pattern and collected all the evidence they could get their hands on to prove it.”

“But there are always two people involved in an incident.” It's the British guy again. He's really starting to get on my nerves. “Shouldn't you work on your driving first, before you blame others and essentially accuse them of sexism?”

“I have worked on my driving. But that's only of any use when I am overtaking. When I have to defend, I can't choose how and when to do it. Interestingly, I only have this problem in the junior categories and not in GT racing, where the drivers are much older and should therefore be more... let's call it old-fashioned about women in racing. But at least they're smart enough not to let it ruin their races. Because it doesn't just cost me time, it costs themselves time, too.

“Let's take yesterday’s incident as an example, since it's fresh in all of our minds. If I had managed to keep it on the track, I probably would have stayed ahead through Raidillon, but we both would have been slow up the straight and maybe even come under threat from Markelov. Let’s assume for a moment Murphy had backed out before Eau Rouge. He would have lost a bit of time there, but would have made it back in my slipstream and probably breezed past me on the straight and lost far less time in the process. The only thing I could have done to prevent the collision was to basically let him go past me, for which I would have been massively criticized, too. But while all the analysing after the fact is nice and you can learn a lot from it, it’s a split second decision in the car and I still don’t think it was the wrong one in the moment.”

I realize that I have been glaring at him for the entire time and relax again with a deep breath. In hindsight I would of course have preferred to have lost one place, but still had a chance at the championship and most importantly not lost my ability to drive. Admitting that to people like the British reporter would be as much as admitting complete fault for the accident, so I keep it to myself.

“I take it you don’t agree with the stewards’ decision to classify the contact as a racing incident then?” the German reporter asks.

“No, I don’t. Calling it a racing incident implies that we were both at fault for the collision, which I don’t accept. It also basically declares moves like that as being fine to do, which I definitely don’t agree with. It’s great that not every little touch is immediately penalised, but I think when the safety of the drivers and spectators is seriously at risk the stewards should intervene. I talked to my team yesterday and we’re going to appeal the decision. It won’t do anything for my championship. It would however make it clear that moves like that aren’t okay.”

Now the French journalist asks another question. “After all of that, do you think that Murphy deserved the win yesterday?”

I’m actually a bit stumped by the question, even if I should have been expecting it. “Well, of course I’d like to think that I would’ve won the race without the crash. But he’s been quick all weekend and would have made it as hard as possible for me. You guys surely would’ve gotten to see a few more battles, so wouldn't we’ve all preferred that?”

By now you can faintly hear the voice of the announcer from outside. “Anyway, I think the first race is about to start and I want to catch it, so I’m afraid that means our time is up. Have nice day and thank you for your time.”

 

* * *

 

It's close to midnight when I finally arrive at the flat in London I share with Octavia. Raven and I rebooked our flights to today, since my side of the garage was pretty much packed up yesterday already. There wasn't really anything left for us to do today, so we went straight to the airport after the F1 race. Sadly we parted ways with Costia and Lexa then, because we were flying from Brussels while their flight left from Cologne. Hopefully it wouldn't be quite such a long time until I got to see Lexa again.

Handicapped as I am at the moment, I struggle a tad with opening the front door and wrangling my luggage through it. Losing the use of one limb really makes me gain respect for people who have to deal with something like this all the time. I toe off my sneakers and step into the living room, were Octavia is sitting on the couch with textbooks and papers spread all over the table.

“Hey O,” I greet her. “Do you really think any of what you're trying to cram into your mind right now will stick?”

“Some of us have to actually work to hopefully earn money someday, Clarke,” Octavia counters without looking up. “Just because you have this lavish lifestyle of travelling across the world to race and party with the hottest girls and blokes doesn't mean I can afford to do the same.”

“We both know you enjoy those parties far more than I do,” I say to her with a smirk. “Seriously though, I bet you've done nothing but study for the whole weekend. You should take a break, relax for a bit and get a good nights sleep. That will probably help more at this point than sitting here for another hour or two.”

“Yeah, you're right.” She closes the textbook she was poring over with a heavy sigh and finally looks up to me. “What would I ever—“She abruptly stops as she sees my arm in its cast. “Shit, what happened to you?”

“Murphy, the fucking wanker, crashed me out of the race,” I tell her. “I slammed into the barriers at 150mph and was actually unlucky enough to break something I really need. He completely ruined my chances for the championship this year.”

“Okay, that sucks and all that, but how are you unlucky with only breaking your arm when you crashed into a wall at that speed?” Octavia asks incredulously.

“Because the car and the barriers are designed to take an impact like this. Most of the time the driver gets out on their own with only a couple of bruises. I watched the replay and I only broke my arm because it got smacked against my helmet,” I complain. “So yeah, unlucky.”

“Did you at least get to impress Lexa and Costia?”

“Not really. The crash was in the first couple of laps of the first race.”

“Oh poor you, you must be absolutely gutted,” she mocks me.

I ignore her, since engaging her will only egg her on. “But I actually got along really well with Costia, so that's one positive.”

I'm not ready to tell her about my moment with Lexa. I don't even want to think about it and get my hopes up. We sit around for a while longer and talk before we both decide it's well past time to go to sleep. But just as I'm about to get into bed, my phone rings and I answer it with a sigh.

“I'm knackered and want to sleep, so make it short, Ray.”

“Since you didn't call me on your own, I'm guessing you didn't check your email?” she asks me.

“That’s what I have you for. Now stop beating around the bush and tell me why you're calling me when we both should be in bed,” I demand.

“We agreed that we'd both be responsible for that!” returns Raven. “Anyway, we got a mail from Dante Wallace and he invited you to test for Mountain Red!”

I'm instantly wide awake. “You're shitting me, right?”

“No, ma'am,” Raven answers with a chuckle. “He wrote that he's been following your career for a while now, but he apparently was especially impressed with your statement to the media today. He thinks you showed the necessary maturity to be in Formula 1.”

I'm completely speechless. The dream I spent most of my life working towards is in reach. But I never imagined I would get noticed this way. In my head I always impressed by my skills on the race track, not off it. I laugh ecstatically.

“Well, that's definitely not way I thought I'd get the attention of an F1 team, but I'll take it!” I tell Raven. “I don't know if I'll be able to sleep now.”

“I know!” she exclaims. “I'm so excited for you!”

“I don't think it has quite sunken in for me yet,” I answer. “But we should try to grab some sleep anyway, because we'll have to craft an appropriately mature response tomorrow that won't just be incoherent screaming.”

“Okay, but I make no promises,” Raven laughs. “Sweet dreams Clarke."

“Oh, I'll definitely have those. Good night.”

I hang up and fall into bed. This weekend turned out far better than I ever hoped it would, despite the crash and in some weird way even because of it.

 

* * *

 

“ _This weekend turned out far worse than I hoped it would,”_ thought Lexa as she laid in bed on Monday morning. Not only had she witnessed Clarke's terrifying crash and nearly had a mental breakdown over it, it also brought to light that Lexa had feelings for her. She didn't know if her feelings never went away after their breakup over three years ago and she had just buried them or if she had started to fall for the blonde again in the last couple of months.

Worst of all, Lexa, in her emotionally fraught state, had almost admitted her feelings to Clarke. There was no way the racing driver would have missed that, even though she hadn't mentioned it. No matter what the brunette did about it, she was probably going to hurt someone. But she couldn't stay in bed all morning thinking about it. She had already taken a whole weekend off in the final few weeks of her bachelor's thesis and couldn't afford to wallow in her misery.

Lexa reluctantly got out of bed and padded to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. While she sat brooding over her muesli, Luna, one of her flatmates, entered the kitchen, too.

“Good morning, Lexa,” Luna greeted her brightly.

Lexa looked up and answered with a short “Morning.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Luna. “I thought a whole weekend with your girlfriend and best friend would relax and cheer you up, not make things worse.”

“It did, at least until Clarke was crashed out of the first race and was unconscious for two hours.”

“Oh my god, is she alright?”

“She’s mostly fine, a broken arm was the worst of it. But that really wasn’t how I imagined the first race weekend I was going to see in person. Now I have to go back to working on my thesis while worrying about how Clarke is doing, now that the injury ruined her season.”

“Chin up, you don’t have much left any more,” Luna tried to encourage her.

“And the reminder that I don’t have much time for it is supposed to make me less stressed out about it?” countered Lexa with a smirk.

Luna smiled back. “It got you to smile, didn’t it?”

After she had finished her breakfast, Lexa tried to concentrate on her thesis, but the events of the weekend wouldn’t leave her alone. After a couple of hours she gave up and decided to call Anya instead. Maybe she could help clear her mind.

After a few rings her sister picked up. “Hello Lexa.”

“Hey Anya. I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?”

“No, I’ve got a couple of minutes. I know you wouldn’t have called if there wasn’t something important, so get talking already.”

“Have you already heard about Clarke’s crash on Saturday?” Lexa asked.

“Yeah, it looked pretty bad, I’m glad she got out relatively unharmed. But don’t tell her I said so, it might get into her head that I care about her or something.” Anya muttered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your reputation safe.”

“But I’m sure that wasn’t why you really called, so spit it out.”

Lexa fell back onto her bed with a deep sigh. “You’re right. It appears my feelings for Clarke never really went away or maybe they did, but getting closer to her again in the last couple of months reignited them. I guess seeing her crash and lying unconscious for hours made me aware of them, but I didn’t completely realize myself until I almost blurted it out while talking to her. She didn’t say anything, but I’m sure she noticed it, too.”

“You’re still happy with Costia though, aren’t you?”

“I am! I definitely still love her, even if I’m not head-over-heels crazy for her. But that’s normal after a couple of years, right?” Lexa took a deep breath. “I just feel like no matter what I do, I’m going to hurt someone.”

“I get that this is a shitty situation and at the worst possible time, too,” Anya answered, “but you haven’t even done anything yet, so don’t you dare feel guilty for something you might do in the future! I don’t think I have to tell you to be careful, if I know you at all you’ll be doing nothing else than thinking about it. In the end I’m sure that both Clarke and Costia want you to be happy no matter what you decide, so don’t obsess over it.”

“They got along really well actually, even though Costia used to be a bit jealous of how much time I spend watching Clarke's races.” Lexa took another deep breath. “Thanks Anya, you really helped me.”

“Great, then we can both get back to work!” her sister laughed. “And don’t mention it, I have a reputation to maintain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long, real life hit me pretty hard with mental illness and other pleasures.  
> Huge thanks to my friends who were kind enough to beta-read this chapter. Without their help it would be in a far worse shape. I'm still not really happy with it, but I don't think I could improve it any more without a complete rewrite.
> 
> In an unfortunate case of life imitating art, the racing driver who inspired me to write this fic, Sophia Flörsch, had a pretty terrible accident a few weeks back and suffered a spinal injury. Thankfully she and all other people injured in the crash are recovering splendidly and she plans to return to racing next year. Check her out if I managed to peak your interest in motorsports!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in years and English isn't my first language, so please be gentle :)  
> Many thanks to [Quantum Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Reality/pseuds/Quantum_Reality) and [eternaleponine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine), who were both willing to read this and give me some tips and advice. Without them, this story probably wouldn't have seen the light of day yet.
> 
> I also have a [tumblr](https://gilradir.tumblr.com/), if you want to come say hi!


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